I just got home from a friend's house. While there, we watched The Ghost and the Darkness and discussed the two lions and Michael Douglas. Then we talked about a lot of things, most of which won't be mentioned here. I do want to mentioned some things that were talked about, a good bit happening outside under the stars.

Bettie Page is sexy. They peal your face down when you die to have better access to your skull. Knee-high socks are sexy. Forensics are interesting. Jennifer Tilly is sexy. And then we talked of some of my writings... the ones that make me feel... well, not so good.

"Mags." "Angel Of." "Testify." These are three short stories that are set in a very different world. It's gray, dark, almost lifeless. Angels run everything. And they don't block you from worshiping Jesus, you're just forgetting about him. It's not a nice place. And usually, ideas come to me in pieces. In fact, I often don't know even the big things when I start a story. I believe it's my job to dig and find out what happened. But stories like "Mags," "Angel Of," and "Testify," they just came to me complete in a single thought. And that scares me.

My friend Jon suggests that I write more of that world. I will some day. Maybe soon. I had to revisit that world tonight. I retold the stories for a friend who hasn't read them. So maybe a new story will come to me for that world. Though, I hope it waits until tomorrow. I need to sleep.

The spellcheck here suggested "magi" for "Mags." That has freaked me out. Read the short story to see why.

"Mags" and "Angel Of" can be read at Under The Moon or Devil's Advocate. Click the links and seek.

  ¶ 5:35 AM